


what a marvellous sight (this celestial glow is blinding)

by alyciaclebnam



Category: Fifth Harmony (Band)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-01 18:59:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4031008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyciaclebnam/pseuds/alyciaclebnam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Camila is a poor girl. Normani is a rich girl. They meet on board a cruise ship. They clash from the get go – Normani makes an insensitive comment when she sees Camila’s tattered clothing for the first time, and makes Camila aggravated enough to retort – and it seems like every conversation leads to an argument. But there is a fine line between love and hate, and against all odds, they begin to fall for each other.</p><p>That’s when things get infinitely more complicated.</p><p>(A loosely based, modern day Titanic AU. Normila feat. platonic Camren.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It’s something like 11 o’clock at night – she’s not really sure because she hasn’t got a watch or a phone or anything capable of telling time – and Camila cannot sleep. The tawdry mattress is lumpy beneath her back and she’s pretty sure she’s halfway to becoming a contortionist with all the ways she’s tried to twist her body to find some semblance of comfort. On top of that, the metal walls of the room are useless at retaining heat – the cold has permeated her five layers of clothing and she’s _freezing_. She’s a little worried that she can’t feel her toes, but she reasons that layers of holey socks can only do so much.

(She wishes she could put on even more clothes, but she’s wearing literally all that she has.)

It doesn’t get this cold in the city at night, but she supposes that a different environment warrants different expectations. She isn’t familiar with the temperature on a cruise ship at night, which isn’t surprising since this is her first – and probably last – time aboard one.

Camila turns her gaze to the bed across the room, where her best friend is sleeping peacefully. She watches the steady rise and fall of Lauren’s chest with a pout. These are better conditions than Camila is used to – lumpy or not, a mattress is still a mattress – but she somehow still can’t fall asleep. 

She thinks she could be lulled to sleep by the sight and sound of waves crashing over one another, if she only had that luxury where she is right now. She can’t hear the ocean, just the groaning of metal and machinery because their room is so far below topside, they are just above the engines housed on the lowest decks. She stares at the wall that separates their room from the ocean and sighs wistfully. There is no window, of course, so she settles for imagining what she would see if there _was_ one.

It’s then that she realises: why imagine when she can see the real thing?

Not even thirty seconds later, Camila is climbing the stairs – she’s too impatient to wait for the elevator – and stepping out on the main deck. The moonlight reflects off of its polished wood and golden fixings. The wind whips past, cool and crisp, making Camila’s hair blow wildly around her face. She’s colder than she’s ever been – not to mention she’s lost sensation in her extremities – but the taste and smell and sight and sound of the ocean is worth the compromise.

If she’s going to lose sleep, she may as well lose it out here.

Camila goes straight to the railing, tipping herself half over it in an absurd attempt to get closer to the water. It’s stupid, she knows. The ocean isn’t _that_ special.

But it is to her.

Growing up in Miami means that she’s spent a lot of time at the beach. The ocean is no place to call home, but it’s as close as she’s come to one. The sound of the tide washing over the sand is practically a _welcome home_ greeting. It has a way of making her unwind, loosening the tension in what little muscle she has on her bones. The ocean washes away the ghosts of her past and the tribulations of her present.

Camila can forget herself there.

She follows the edge of the deck with one hand on the railing, breathes in the salty air and smiles serenely. The waves are violent and angry tonight, but Camila still considers the ocean to be the most beautiful thing in the world.

Until now, that is.

There is a girl holding onto the railing some twenty feet away. Camila doesn’t want to break her contact with the rail – it’s childish but she’s been touching it for half the length of the ship so far and she’s determined to go the whole way – but she can’t go any further because the girl is blocking her path.

So Camila pauses and observes the girl’s profile, or at least what she can see from this distance with the limited lighting.

She’s from money, Camila can tell that much – the diamond pendant resting against her chest is probably worth more than everything Camila has ever owned. She’s wearing a formfitting white dress – probably tailor-made – that is stark against her ebony skin. Her physical beauty is striking, but that isn’t why Camila is staring.

The corner of her mouth is pulled down in a way that should not look as pretty as it does, because pouting is not _meant_ to be pretty. She looks like a woman in a Manet painting, beautiful and melancholic and _breathtaking_.

Camila is so captivated that she doesn’t realise what she’s done until the girl has turned her pout – which is no longer a pout, but a frown – on her. She dimly recalls the words _why the long face_ leaving her mouth and mentally scolds herself when she gathers her wits.

“Who are you?”

The girl raises her eyebrows expectantly as she asks the question. Camila just blinks. She tries to answer but nothing comes out so she ends up opening and closing her mouth like an idiot.

“Camila,” She finally chokes out. She then nods, like she’s accomplished a difficult feat.

(Honestly, Camila is impressed that she’s managed even that much, but the other girl obviously does not share that feeling.)

“Uh huh,” The girl drawls. “And what are you doing exactly?”

Camila frowns confusedly. “Standing on the deck of the ship, same as you?”

The girl looks her up and down, takes in her tattered clothing and furrows her brows. Camila doesn’t bother to hide her eye roll. She’d let her guard down for a moment because this girl was just so _pretty_ but her walls have built themselves up again, this time even higher than before.

Camila is disappointed at the turn that this interaction has taken and she bites back a cutting remark that would make Lauren proud (her best friend is the master of sass and snide comments). She waits for the girl to speak.

The stranger does not disappoint.

“You’re here as a towel girl, waitress, kitchen hand…?” The girl trails off, seemingly expecting Camila to fill in the blank.

Camila gives her a forced smile. “As a guest. Are you insinuating that I can’t afford cruise ship tickets based on the clothes I’m wearing?”

(Lauren was the one who procured their tickets, actually; Camila couldn’t afford the paper that the tickets were printed on, much less the tickets themselves, but that’s _so_ not the point here.)

Rich Girl – the least vulgar name Camila can think to call her – completely deflates. She tries to backtrack and apologise but Camila shakes her head. She knows that the other girl isn’t really sorry; she’s just sorry she caused any offence.

Rich Girl might be beautiful as hell, but Camila has no room in her life for fake, judgemental bitches.

“Don’t apologise if you don’t mean it,” Camila says bluntly. She can’t help the snide comment that comes next. “Talk is cheap. Just like me, isn’t that right?”

She leaves Rich Girl flustered and ashamed, and stalks back to her crappy room on the lowest passenger deck. Lauren wakes when she opens the door, asking where she’s been.

Camila simply says that she went out. Even in her sleepy state, Lauren recognises that Camila doesn’t want to talk, and she doesn’t press for more details.

Irritation still runs hot in her veins, even after she’s climbed into bed and tells herself to just _chill_ , and Camila knows she’s not getting any sleep tonight.

***

Camila runs into Rich Girl the next morning. They are both circling the breakfast buffet. She remains stoic as Rich Girl steps close and offers another apology. She reminds herself to stay guarded; last night reinforced the fact even the prettiest girls can have ugly hearts.

“I’m sorry about what I said last night.”

Camila ignores the words, just jerks her thumb over at the table where Lauren is waiting with her own breakfast.

“I have to go meet my friend.”

Then she walks stiffly to the table and sits. She can feel Rich Girl’s eyes on her the whole time, but she doesn’t dare look back.

Lauren takes a look at the singular bread roll on her plate – she hadn’t managed to grab anything else before Rich Girl interrupted – and launches into a speech about how they should take advantage of the “free” food because they’ll never be as fortunate as this once the cruise ship docks. Camila shoves the bread roll into Lauren’s mouth to shut her up. While the girl is choking on Camila’s breakfast, Camila steals her plate and begins to eat _Lauren’s_ food instead.

(Lauren eventually dislodges the bread from her windpipe. She stomps angrily back to the buffet table to get another plate, but not without first pushing Camila’s face into the scrambled eggs that were formerly hers.)

***

As Camila and Lauren are walking from breakfast to the main deck, where Lauren is eager to play a game of table tennis for the first time, Lauren addresses her with a raised brow.

“Who is she?”

Camila knows Lauren isn’t stupid. Even still, she can’t stop herself from saying, “Who’s _who_?”

Lauren rolls her eyes, and Camila rolls _her_ eyes at the fact that Lauren rolls her eyes. Lauren does it again, and Camila stops the whole thing before it becomes a cycle and they both permanently roll their eyes into the backs of their heads. They’re both stubborn enough for that to become an actual possibility.

“I won’t push, Camz. But if she did something to you…” Lauren exhales sharply and gives her a pointed look. “It’s my job to keep you _safe_ , and I can’t do that if-”

“She didn’t hurt me,” Camila cuts in. She watches Lauren consider the answer, her gaze serious and her mouth pursed. “Not in the way that you think.”

Lauren frowns at that, but she makes good on her promise and doesn’t push. She changes the subject then, abrupt and purposeful, and Camila smiles gratefully.

“Come on, we need to grab a playing table before they’re all taken. I’m dying to pelt ping-pong balls at your face.”

***

Rich Girl keeps trying to apologise to Camila even though it’s obvious Camila wants nothing to do with her. Camila encounters (and evades) her no less than five times after breakfast: once during her table tennis game with Lauren; once while she and Lauren are wandering down the main level wraparound deck after they were banned from playing because Camila accidentally backhanded her paddle into someone’s face; once during lunch in the dining hall; and twice as Camila was coming out of the toilet – in two _different_ washrooms, no less.

Rich Girl just isn’t giving up. If Camila wasn’t harbouring any residual annoyance from their first meeting, she thinks she might even be entertained by her efforts.

***

Rich Girl tries in vain for three days. Camila has lost count of the number of times she has barged into occupied rooms or staff-only areas and had to give hasty apologies just to escape her.

***

Lauren doesn’t push the subject – not verbally, anyway. But she keeps giving Camila looks whenever Rich Girl makes an attempt to apologise while she’s around, so she may as well be pushing.

***

Camila caves.

Lauren is her best friend, the girl who would literally take a bullet for her – and almost has; the streets of Miami aren’t always kind to homeless teens – and she doesn’t even really know why she was holding the information back in the first place.

Lauren holds Camila as she pouts and whines about judgemental people and pretentious rich bitches and oh my God _why_ did her mom and dad have to die in that accident and leave her all alone with absolutely nothing to her name?

“Who does she think she is?” Lauren seethes when Camila comes clean about her first encounter with Rich Girl, that night on the main deck. “I know it looks like we can’t even afford _half_ acruise ship ticket-”

“Which is true,” Camila quips lightly. “Tell me again how you got our tickets?”

“I didn’t steal them,” Lauren says defensively. “I _liberated_ them from a source that wasn’t going to appreciate the opportunity as much as we would. I did them – and us – a favour, honestly.”

Camila chuckles. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Laur.”

Lauren scoffs as she exaggeratedly gestures around their room, “Four walls, a bed, and three square meals a day certainly _do_ help me sleep at night.”

“Smartass,” Camila says with an eye roll, nudging Lauren – who is sitting at the end of her bed – with her foot. “But was there any chance that you could have ‘liberated’ a pair of tickets for a better room? Not to sound ungrateful or anything.”

Lauren pins her with a dry expression. Then she gives Camila an unceremonious shove and the brown-eyed girl tumbles to the floor.

When Camila gets over the initial shock, she can’t help but giggle. She watches as a smile spreads unbidden and slow over Lauren’s face. When Lauren can’t fight the urge to snigger at Camila’s predicament, Camila’s giggle turns into a boisterous laugh.

She doesn’t really mind that there is going to be bruise on her hip from the landing, not when her best friend is giving her a crinkly-eyed smile and looking at her like she’s the most precious thing to ever exist. Camila knows that some things are worth so much more than riches, but the philosophy has never truly meant anything to her before this moment.

Camila wouldn’t trade Lauren for all the money in the world.

***

“Rich Bitch is looking at you again.”

Camila ignores Lauren’s new nickname for Rich Girl – and Rich Girl herself – in favour of sampling every type of soup at the dinner buffet.

Lauren huffs. She sends Rich Girl a glare when she thinks Camila isn’t looking.

(Camila sees it, but she pretends that she doesn’t. Having someone willing to defend her honour is a nice feeling, after all.)

***

It becomes something like a game of chess. Rich Girl desperately tries to checkmate her, but Camila’s King dances just out of reach every time.

***

One night at dinner, Camila and Lauren are approached by one of the kitchen staff. The name _Ally_ glitters just below her occupation – _Pastry Chef_ – in bright gold letters. Ally is carrying a plate of what looks like an expensive cheesecake platter – like _really_ expensive; are those gold flakes? – and sets it down in front of them.

Lauren examines the plate before she carefully asks, “Is this dessert included in the ticket price, or will we have to pay extra?”

Ally shakes her head and gives them a radiant smile. There is a streak of flour on the underside of her chin, and caramel on her chef’s hat. The tips of her hair look like they have been accidentally dipped in chocolate frosting. She is somehow effervescent even though it looks like she has been caught in the middle of a confectionary explosion.

“We were requested upon short notice to make an assortment of cheesecakes for your table,” Ally explains brightly. Camila wonders how it’s possible to maintain a smile _whilst_ talking. “Everything has already been taken care of.”

Lauren is about to ask another question when Ally squeaks and pats at the pocket of her apron worriedly.

“There’s one more thing!” She adds with a dazzling smile, pulling out a folded piece of paper and placing it on the table in front of Camila. “Normani said to give this to you. Enjoy your dessert!”

Ally departs with a wave, and Camila stares at the space she left behind. Lauren’s gaze flickers between the note, the dessert platter and Camila.

“ _Normani_?” Camila asks when she turns to face Lauren.

It’s a silly question because they both already know who ‘Normani’ is.

Lauren raises an eyebrow and shrugs. “So Rich Bitch finally has a name. Are you going to read her note?”

Camila glances down at the piece of paper. After a beat, she takes the note and crumples it into a ball. Normani doesn’t deserve her forgiveness.

Lauren nods approvingly. Then she looks between the cheesecakes and Camila, pinning the latter with a questioning stare. Camila sighs.

“ _Yes_ , you can still eat the dessert.”

***

From that point on, it’s no holds barred. Normani – _Rich Girl_ , Camila still thinks stubbornly – is not above using the cruise ship staff to make her intentions clear. She wants to talk to Camila, and she will stop at nothing to make it happen.

***

Lauren and Camila decide to play mini-golf because they’re on a luxury cruise ship with a freaking _mini-golf_ course and _why the hell not_? A girl called Dinah is working the equipment stand. As she hands them their mini-golf clubs, she says,

“Normani wants to-”

Camila throws her mini-golf club back so fast she knocks the wind out of the poor girl’s lungs. Dinah grunts with the force of the impact. She gives a stiff nod in thanks when Lauren hands her club back much more gently.

***

Ally presents them with fried plantains after one meal – Camila’s favourite, and something she hadn’t eaten since her parents died because her mom was the only one that ever made them _right_ – and they’re actually pretty darn good. It’s been years since she’s had them, but Ally’s version of the food tastes a lot like the ones she remembers.

Lauren likes them too, which is a bonus.

(Camila refuses to acknowledge it, but she can feel her walls begin to shake at the foundations.)

***

After another sleepless night spent shivering on the main deck overlooking the ocean, a boy named Troy delivers two thick goose-feather comforters to their room.

“The warmest duvets on the ship, ma’am,” He says with a smile. “Normani asked that we give them to you.”

Lauren’s stance on Normani hasn’t changed – she doesn’t think _Rich Bitch_ deserves Camila’s forgiveness – but she also keeps saying “don’t look a gift horse in the mouth” and she takes the comforters from Troy without batting an eyelash, so Camila doesn’t know where she really stands in the grand scheme of things.

***

Camila impulsively storms up to Normani the next day and acknowledges her for the first time in a long time. Normani looks about as surprised as Camila feels.

“Stop it,” Camila says indignantly. “I don’t need your _really_ _delicious_ desserts or your comforters that are _really_ _freaking_ _warm_ , I just-” She groans because her fists are balled threateningly by her sides but this speech isn’t nearly as fierce as she wanted it to be, so her intimidation tactic probably isn’t working. She softens her voice and sighs. “I don’t need your pity, okay?”

Normani furrows her brows and opens her mouth to speak, but Camila doesn’t hear what she has to say because she’s already gone.

(As Camila spends another night free from the bitter cold thanks to Normani, she feels her icy façade begin to melt.)

***

It’s just past midnight, according to the ornate clock out on the main deck. The stars are bright out here, brighter than she’s ever seen them from the city. The ocean is calm, and so is she. It was hard to leave her bed – which is warm thanks to her new duvet – but the view is worth it. It always is.

Camila has her arms twisted behind her, both hands on the railing as she leans back and looks up at the sky. This time, it is Normani who approaches her.

“I don’t pity you.”

Camila barely spares her a glance. She looks beautiful – perhaps even more so than the first time they met – but Camila doesn’t want her mind to be clouded by her beauty, not again. She says nothing, and is rewarded with a sigh from Normani, resigned and weary.

“Are you ever going to give me a chance to apologise properly, or am I wasting my time?”

Camila bites her lip. She wants to be angry or annoyed, or maybe not even care at all. But Normani is looking at her, all beautiful and melancholic and _imploring_ , and Camila surrenders.

“You have 60 seconds.”

***

Normani takes her very literally. The words come flying out a mile a minute, and the corner of Camila’s mouth ticks upward the slightest bit.

“I didn’t mean to insult you. I’ve just been under a lot of pressure lately and I happened to lash out at the next person to talk to me. My parents and friends are just so-” She makes a violet gesture with both hands and Camila coughs lightly into her hand to mask her giggle. “-and I needed to be...”

She pauses here, obviously thinking of the right word to say.

“A judgemental bitch?” Camila suggests wryly.

“ _Perfect_ ,” Normani says with an eye roll. “I have to be _perfect_ all the freaking time, and it’s exhausting.”

“So is being homeless,” Camila says before she can stop herself. Then she claps her hands to her mouth and stares at Normani in shock.

Normani, to her credit, doesn’t appear to look disgusted or sympathetic or anything else that Camila expected. She just has her brows furrowed in question.

“I didn’t mean to say that,” Camila says hastily.

“I gathered,” Normani says evenly. After a beat, she leans against the railing so that she and Camila are both facing the same way, instead of each other.

Camila realises that it’s Normani’s way of giving her some privacy after her unexpected declaration, so she presses her hands to her burning cheeks to cool them and takes a series of steady breaths before addressing the girl.

“So…” Camila trails off, unsure of where the conversation is supposed to go now.

Normani clears her throat awkwardly and tries to continue their dialogue.

“If you’re homeless, how did you get tickets onto the ship?”

Camila raises an eyebrow at the question. Normani very obviously wants to take it back – it seems she just blurted out the first thing she could think to say, oblivious to the fact that it was kind of rude – but Camila decides to humour her anyway.

“If I told you, my friend and I would get kicked off right here in the middle of the ocean and we’d have to swim back to shore,” She says dryly.

There’s a ghost of a smile on Normani’s face when she nods and says, “Fair enough.”

It’s silent for another moment, and then Normani says, “For the record, I _am_ sorry about what I said that night. It was wrong of me to judge you based on your appearance. I apologise for being an ass.”

Camila nods appreciatively. “I forgive you.”

“Really?”

Normani looks genuinely surprised. To be honest, Camila’s kind of surprised too. It seems to be a recurring theme between them.

She shrugs.

“Let bygones be bygones, right?” Camila says and sticks out her hand. “I’ll even shake on it.”

Normani grins and shakes her hand gently. Camila has never felt skin so soft. She lets go of the other girl’s hand quickly; she doesn’t want to be a creep who prolongs handshakes to caress people’s skin, although she really would love to because Normani’s skin is _really_ dang smooth. She wraps her own hand back around the railing and looks up at the stars again. From the corner of her eye, she sees Normani follow suit.

“They’re so beautiful out here,” Normani breathes, seemingly taking in the sight for the first time, despite the number of times she has been out on the deck at night.

(Camila knows that Normani has been watching her when she comes out onto the deck, but she doesn’t understand why the girl never took the opportunity to accost her here as well.)

Camila makes the mistake of glancing at Normani and watching as a reverent smile grows on her face. Her gaze trails unintentionally down Normani’s figure and she nods in quiet agreement.

Beautiful indeed.

(It’s at this exact moment that Camila realises she should have reinforced her walls instead of letting them crumble.)

***

They argue a lot that night but most of it is in jest; it turns out that Normani has a sarcastic wit that rivals Lauren’s, and that is saying something. There is only one argument that makes Camila almost regret offering Normani her forgiveness.

Normani asks where Camila’s parents are. Camila closes off almost immediately and simply tells her that they’re not around.

Normani makes the mistake of being incredibly obtuse and pushing the issue.

“Why haven’t they been helping you? With your, uh, _situation_ or whatever?”

Normani is undoubtedly talking about her homelessness again, but it’s the way that she asks – like it’s something she can just click her fingers and fix – that makes Camila suddenly see red.

“It’s not a ‘situation’, it’s my _life_ ,” She retorts. The irritation is brewing hot within her head, and she pinches the bridge of her nose to relieve the growing tension behind her eyes. “And are you insinuating that my parents were neglectful?”

“What? _No!_ I just-” The rich girl is flustered, and Camila feels a strange sense of victory at the sight. “What I meant was-”

Camila decides to put her out of her misery and just tell her.

“My parents are dead,” She says bluntly. “Passed away in an accident when I was fourteen. They were dirt-poor immigrants and I didn’t have anything left to my name when they died, not even my own birth certificate. I knew I was too old to have a chance at being taken into a decent family, and I didn’t want to spend the rest of my childhood being abused by the system, so I ran.”

Camila pre-empts the apology and stops Normani before she can vocalise it.

“Don’t apologise. It is what it is. I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t have to be,” Normani says with a forlorn expression.

Camila scoffs at that. “Please, don’t even try to empathise with me. You have no idea what I’ve had to go through just to get where I am.”

“Why do you keep attacking me?” Normani asks confusedly. “I get that I kinda come off as insensitive but that’s because I only know what I know, you know? This whole thing is uncharted water for me. I am trying the best that I can to muddle my way through it, and I don’t get why you have such a big _problem_ with me.”

“You’re rich and I’m poor,” Camila says by way of explanation. She shakes her head. “This is a disaster waiting to happen. I don’t even know why I’ve been going along with it. You’re never going to _understand_ me or anything about me.”

She’s almost ready to turn and walk away when Normani speaks.

“So _help_ me understand.”

Her voice is soft and earnest. Camila is rendered powerless when Normani draws her brows together in contrition, so unlike the shallow person Camila has painted her to be.

 _Everyone deserves a second chance_ , she thinks resignedly. _I guess that includes Normani too_.

***

Camila discovers that Normani literally doesn’t know how to _not_ act rich.

They’re talking on the deck again the next night when the wealthy girl says something so utterly _privileged_ , Camila just shakes her head despairingly.

They have been scrolling down a webpage on Normani’s phone, cherry-picking through a list of questions in order to get to know each other. Camila isn’t sure why they are using questions from a list, because when did actual _conversations_ go out of style?

As Camila is pondering the farces of the technological age, something happens.

The phone freezes for barely a fraction of a second – it’s so _minute_ that she hadn’t even noticed until Normani pointed out what had happened – and Normani says, “Sorry. This phone is so old, it’s practically a dinosaur.”

Camila inspects the phone with little interest. From what she can tell, it looks like the newest model of the Apple iPhone.

Normani has not realised the pompousness of what she has said, so Camila settles for saying, “I don’t even _have_ a phone,” and watching the comprehension dawn across her face.

“I don’t- I’m not-” Normani begins hastily. “I didn’t _mean_ -”

Camila sighs and stops her from making a fool of herself. “I know you didn’t mean anything by what you said. But you should really start thinking about what you say before you say it.”

She anticipates the next apology and waves it off disinterestedly. Normani huffs.

“You wouldn’t last a day on the street,” Camila tells her honestly.

Normani rolls her eyes. “If this is about me not being able to live without material possessions-”

“It’s not,” Camila says dryly. “I’m just saying that you’re too _soft_ – all that money has wrapped a cushy protective layer around every aspect of your life. You don’t know how to do things the hard way – the _actual_ hard way, which you don’t even know the _meaning_ of because, to you, _hard_ means having to cut back on your five-digit spending allowance so you can buy a Bugatti or a Lamborghini or something equally as obnoxious.”

Camila is not above admitting that she has some pent up frustration when it comes to the ridiculously wealthy. She thinks that maybe she has pushed a little too far – her rant has caused Normani to stiffen her posture somewhat.

“Are you insinuating that I’ve never worked hard to achieve something?” The dark-skinned girl asks with an unfamiliar lilt in her tone.

It takes a moment for Camila to catch on to the fact that she’s joking. “Are you mocking me? Is that- is that what’s happening here?”

There is a split second of silence. Then Normani laughs.

The girl apparently can’t fake a stoic expression for longer than 30 seconds. It is a wonderful moment, Camila thinks as she watches Normani lose her composure. She is beautiful even with the saddest expression on her face; it stands to reason that she is infinitely more beautiful whilst wearing a happy one.

Camila rather likes this side of Normani. She decides that she wants to make her laugh more often.

(She absently thinks that her broken walls and an air of detachedness won’t be enough to save her from falling into whatever this is.)

“I’m not as uptight and pretentious as you think I am,” Normani says when she finally regains her composure. Camila is startled when the girl takes her hand and tugs her toward the cruise ship lobby. “Come on, I want to show you that I _can_ work hard.”

***

Normani drags her to the ballroom. Camila knows they shouldn’t be there, because it’s almost two in the morning and there is limited access even during its opening hours, but the door is suddenly closing behind her and there is nothing she can do about it. The rich girl pulls out a key – from _where_ , Camila doesn’t understand; she’s wearing a flowing dress and a coat with no outside pockets, and she isn’t carrying a purse – then she locks the door from the inside.

Camila glances between Normani and the locked door. Normani answers the unasked question with a shrug.

“My family’s money helped build this part of the ship. I can come in here whenever I want – Captain Cowell said so himself.”

Camila rolls her eyes but she lets an amused smile paint her lips.

“And here I thought I was accompanying you on your first rebellious adventure,” She jokes. “So much for _not pretentious_.”

“Oh shut _up_ , I don’t flash my money around like that. This is the only thing I’ve ever made an investment in, really,” Normani says with a modest smile. She adds in a quiet voice, “It’s the one thing that actually matters to me.”

“Why does the ballroom matter to you?” Camila asks curiously. She looks around, taking in the opulence of its marble walls, glossy wooden flooring, high concave ceiling and gilded chandelier. She can see the aesthetic appeal and wonders if that’s all there is to it.

“It’s not the ballroom itself, but what I can do _in_ it,” Normani clarifies, pushing Camila to sit on the only chair in the room – a gold-plated monstrosity that looks more decorative than functional. She pulls off her coat and lays it over the back of the chair, toes off her shoes, then taps at her phone and hands it to Camila to hold. Camila does so with a raised eyebrow.

Then the classical music begins to play and she understands.

Normani dances like she is grace incarnate. She moves like the ocean that Camila loves so much, rising to her toes like a cresting wave, then flowing smoothly across the floor in a series of twirls and whirls and revolutions that leaves Camila dizzy when she tries to follow them. When she thinks that Normani has surely spun herself out and is slowing down, the girl transitions into a succession of complex leg movements that has Camila watching in awe. She doesn’t know how the girl hasn’t tripped over her own feet with all the criss-crossing and stepping and spinning that she’s doing.

The music shudders into silence and Normani slows to a stop, but Camila knows from checking the phone screen that the song is not over. The music rises to a crescendo but it is different from before; the soothing sound of the string quartet is now steeped with a hammering beat and a thrumming bass. The change in music naturally comes with a change in Normani’s dancing style.

It’s some sort of ballet infused hip-hop, or hip-hop infused ballet; Camila can’t tell which is the dominant style anymore. Where Normani’s movements were once all flowing and elegant, they are now integrated with juddering pops and locks and complicated arm motions.

Again, Camila can only compare Normani to her beloved ocean – not just graceful and fluid, but powerful and passionate, forceful and smooth. She watches as Normani flips back and forth from her hands to her feet. It is all done with a practiced ease; there is nothing on Normani’s face aside to suggest that she is struggling with the physicality at all.

When the music ends, Camila claps. A genuine smile blooms across Normani’s face and she looks so _proud_ of herself. Camila thinks that the expression is absolutely, completely justified.

“I’m sorry about what I said before. You know, that whole ‘ _cutting back your five-digit spending allowance’_ thing,” Camila says sheepishly, handing the phone back to the other girl. “I was the one being obnoxious, not you.”

Normani is quick to forgive her. She teasingly adds, “Just for the record: I would never go for a Bugatti or a Lamborghini – I’m more of an old-fashioned Rolls-Royce kinda girl. It screams _stereotypical rich person_ , just like me, y’know?”

Camila rolls her eyes at the joke, but she can feel a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth and she tries her best to hide it. She must be doing a poor job though – Normani looks like the cat that ate the canary, so Camila grudgingly gives up the pretence.

The way that Normani gives her a radiant smile in return makes the whole incident not _completely_ unbearable.

***

Camila and Normani stay in the ballroom until sunrise. When Camila leaves, it is with Normani’s coat on her shoulders; Camila was getting cold and Normani was still warm from dancing and she assured her that she would be fine without it.

(Camila surreptitiously turns her face into the collar and breathes. It smells like cinnamon and apples.)

Lauren looks at the coat curiously when she returns to their room – Camila is not nearly as graceful as Normani; she misjudges the space between her bed and where she’s standing, which results in a loud crash and muttered cursing – but she doesn’t question it. Camila is simultaneously relieved and remorseful.

She will tell Lauren in time though, and she knows that Lauren knows that.

***

After that night, things change.

Camila reverts to her normal personality around Normani – awkward and bumbling and not nearly as serious-faced – and it’s such a dramatic difference that Normani actually requests time to get used to it. Camila concedes easily; she honestly couldn’t keep up the ‘infuriated homeless girl’ charade any longer – that’s Lauren’s thing, not hers.

And she wasn’t kidding when she said she wanted to hear Normani laugh more. She takes it upon herself to make it happen, cracking jokes so often that she has surely obliterated Normani’s first impression of her – she’s nowhere near as argumentative as their early interactions have predicated. The only problem Camila’s having is that none of her jokes are actually _funny_ – Normani isn’t exactly laughing _with_ her, but rather _at_ her. Camila doesn’t really know how she feels about that.

***

Normani is the one shivering when they meet in the ballroom a couple of days later. She had hurried over as soon as midnight struck, forgetting to put on a coat before she left. Without missing a beat, Camila suggests that she go stand in the corner. Completely bewildered, Normani asks why.

“Because corners are usually 90 degrees,” Camila answers cheekily.

Normani groans at the bad joke, as per usual, and Camila’s grin turns down at the corners.

“Seriously? I made _myself_ laugh with that one!” She whines when Normani shows no intention of laughing even after she repeats the punch line. “And don’t you dare say that I’m bad at making jokes, because I’m really freaking funny. Ask Lauren. She laughs at my jokes. You must just have a really bad sense of humour.”

It’s the grumpiness in her tone that gets Normani to finally chuckle.

Camila reasons that embarrassing herself to make Normani laugh isn’t a bad compromise at all.

***

It’s like Camila and Normani have made an unspoken agreement to only ever meet at night. She doesn’t know the _exact_ reason why, but she suspects that it’s family-related – when she walked past Normani and a woman who looked like an older version of her in the dining hall, the woman plainly turned up her nose at the sight of Camila and Normani was looking everywhere else _but_ her.

Her heart sank a little when Normani refused to acknowledge her – a far cry from their situation only days ago – but she reasons that reputation is a big thing in the world of the wealthy. Normani is hiding their friendship for a reason, and that reason is none of Camila’s business. She hates feeling like a dirty little secret, but she (of all people) knows that life isn’t always fair.

Camila also knows that Lauren is curious about the strange hours she has been keeping, but thankfully she doesn’t pry. Camila will tell her soon though; she just wants to explore this friendship on her own first.

***

Camila teaches Normani about the simple pleasures in life – the things that people forget to be thankful for, the things that they will miss the most when they are gone.

After a timely lesson on surviving winter as a homeless person (the girls had snuck onto a restricted deck accessible only by ladder, and discovered that the ladder had been taken while they were exploring the area), Normani tells Camila that she has never had a deeper appreciation for a warm bed and blankets.

***

Camila eventually becomes comfortable enough with Normani to share details of what life is like as a homeless teen. Normani does not look at her with pity, even when she talks about rigging vending machines to pilfer people’s change (because a little money is better than none), and Camila is grateful.

She tells a story about a homeless man who stole a month’s worth of her collected change (which would have gone towards buying a toothbrush and hopefully a comb) and laughs as she recalls how Lauren was ready to beat the guy’s face in – it was comical trying to imagine a scrawny, fifteen-year-old Lauren try to take on a 6 foot tall, weather-beaten, streetwise, homeless man. At the end of the anecdote, Normani’s face takes on an expression that Camila can’t quite read. When she asks, Normani explains.

“You make jokes and you laugh like, all the time. I don’t understand how you’re still so… _lively_ after everything that life has done to you.”

“If you don’t laugh, you’ll cry,” Camila says honestly. “I make the conscious decision to be happy every single day. Life is more fun when you’re not miserable, and if I can choose to _not_ be miserable, well… why wouldn’t I?”

Normani nods at the simple logic. “Makes sense.”

“Of course it does, I’m like a walking philosophy book. Duh,” Camila does a poor imitation of a Valley girl hair flip and Normani snorts.

“What happened to being humble?”

“Look who’s talking, Miss Chanel-Handbag-and-Matching-Shoes,” Camila teases, because they’ve somehow progressed far enough that she can actually make _jokes_ about Normani’s wealth.

Normani gives a mock-scandalised gasp, “Camila, these are _Gucci_ , not Chanel.”

“Same thing,” Camila says dismissively. Then she suddenly brightens. “Speaking of Gucci, wanna know how you tickle a rich girl?”

Normani narrows her eyes suspiciously. When Camila shows no sign of an ulterior motive, she reluctantly asks how.

_“Gucci Gucci Gucci!”_

Normani’s answering groan just makes Camila laugh even harder.

***

For her own emotional wellbeing, Camila tries to avoid becoming attached to things. It’s an attitude that has proven itself useful in the past, but she’s finding it difficult to uphold now that Normani is in her life.

***

“Did you know that you hum?”

“Hmm?”

It’s an unintentional pun, but it makes Normani roll her eyes fondly and Camila decides to take her victories wherever she can.

“You hum under your breath sometimes,” Normani reiterates. “Is it on purpose?”

Camila shakes her head. She honestly hadn’t realised that she’d been doing it.

“Whatever it is, it sounds really pretty,” Normani says kindly. “You should sing for me someday.”

Camila makes a face at the idea and Normani chuckles good-naturedly. They go back to doing a whole lot of nothing, which is still surprisingly enjoyable.

After another few moments of silence, Camila bites her lip. She _wants_ to, but she also _doesn’t_ want to, because _what if?_

Her heart makes the decision for her at the last second, and the lyrics come spilling out.

_“Oh, what a marvellous sight_  
_Oceans turn to gold right before my eyes_  
_That vibrant colour I crave, wish I could taste_  
_Take me there, take me there…”_

Normani doesn’t look up, doesn’t acknowledge the fact that she’s singing, but Camila knows that she’s listening because she is sitting so perfectly still; it’s like her whole body is at attention, taking careful note of every sound that Camila makes.

_“I’ll dive in the sky, oh the water’s alive_  
_I’ll float down to soak in the stars_  
_Swim away from the night, I am swallowed by light_  
_Suddenly love doesn’t seem very far…”_

***

They are lying on the deck with their hands behind their heads, looking up at the stars.

“Tell me about one of the constellations,” Camila requests, not taking her eyes off the twinkling lights.

Normani shoots her an uneasy glance. “But I don’t know anything about constellations. I wouldn’t be able to name a single one of them if you asked.”

“So make it up,” Camila says simply. “I don’t know anything about them either; it’s not like I’ll know the difference.”

Normani sighs like she’s being put out. She takes a long moment to study the glittering sky before clearing her throat exaggeratedly. Camila unwittingly sidles closer to hear her story.

“You see those two stars that are really close to each other? The one on the left is bright and shiny, and the one on the right is a little dimmer, a bit more soft?”

Normani points them out. Camila doesn’t see but she pretends she does anyway. She nods and urges Normani to continue with the story.

“They’re said to be the celestial reincarnation of Romeo and Juliet, two people who are born into opposing circumstances and expected to hate each other. They are told that they can never be friends – the idea of being anything more than _enemies_ is laughable – and yet… they fall in love with each other. Somehow, against all odds, these two people find one another and challenge everything they know, everything that they have been _taught_ …”

At the end of the story, the air comes rushing out of Camila’s lungs in one long breath. Normani glances at her apprehensively.

“Are you okay? Was the story really that bad?”

Camila ignores the question, just stands hurriedly and walks away from where they are. She doesn’t look to see if Normani is following; she can hear the clacking of expensive heels trailing behind her. Before she knows it, she has walked to the bow of the ship – the absolute furthest she can get from where they were laying on the deck – and she is gripping the railing so hard, her knuckles have turned white. Normani pries her fingers from the metal with furrowed brows and a questioning gaze.

Camila can’t look her in the eye. It makes for an awkward few seconds of silence. Then Normani says her name with such concern – like she actually _cares_ , like Camila actually _means_ something to her – and Camila reaches her tipping point.

When Camila kisses her, it is impulsive and reckless and she fully expects Normani to wrench herself away. She half-expects the girl to command the cruise ship security staff to throw her off the highest deck and into the water.

What she doesn’t expect is for Normani to pull their bodies impossibly close and swipe her tongue across the seam of her lips. Camila is suddenly thankful for the ship’s complimentary toothbrush and toothpaste, because if this had happened at any other time, she’s pretty sure Normani would not be _moaning_ into her mouth right now.

Camila knows the kiss will change things. It will turn everything upside down and inside out but it feels so _right_ and she just can’t help herself.

She has learned to take what she is given before the opportunity is missed. Normani is giving herself to Camila, and Camila finds that she wants to have as much of her as she can.

She’ll deal with the consequences when they come.


	2. Chapter 2

Normani’s fingers are trailing a blazing path up and down the sides of Camila’s stomach. The whole situation is making Camila so _hot_ , she’s melting even though it’s only like 40 degrees outside.

She feels kinda bad that she isn’t contributing anything except shuddering breaths and the occasional moan, but Normani doesn’t seem to mind – her mouth is still pressing languid kisses against the column of her neck and shows no sign of stopping.

Until now, that is.

Normani’s fingers ghost across a spot at the bottom of her ribs and Camila is suddenly gasping but not in a good way. Normani immediately pulls away from her neck and eyes her disbelievingly.

“Are you- is that-”

“No!” Camila says vehemently, pushing away from Normani and scooting across the ballroom floor where they have been making out for the past half hour. “Absolutely not!”

“Camila,” Normani drawls, a suggestive smirk playing across her lips. “Did I just find your ticklish spot?”

“It’s not a ticklish spot!” Camila argues weakly. “I’m just really… _sensitive_ there.”

It does nothing to deter Normani, who is advancing forward with a lecherous grin. Camila digs her heels in and tries to scoot back, but there is no more room to scoot; she’s pressed up against the wall with nowhere to go.

Soon enough, Camila is writhing on the floor at the mercy of Normani’s fingers, though not exactly the way she initially envisioned. She finds that she doesn’t really mind the turn of events – the laughter in Normani’s eyes is satisfaction enough, she supposes.

***

Suffice it to say, Camila and Normani have worked out their differences.

There’s a lot of kissing. Like, a _lot_.

Camila has accepted that the tingling in her lips is possibly a permanent thing now, and Normani is running out of (ridiculously expensive) lip-gloss because Camila has taken a liking to sucking it off.

(Normani chastises her every time but in Camila’s defence, popcorn flavoured lip-gloss sounds – and tastes – like confectionary not a cosmetic product.)

***

“Oh gosh, would you look at that?” Lauren exclaims loudly, pointing to some spot on the horizon.

Camila raises an eyebrow in question. Lauren grins and nods her head down towards the people on the lower deck, who have obviously heard her and are looking in the same direction to find whatever she has seen.

Comprehension eventually dawns and Camila shakes her head with an amused smile. She plays along.

“Oh! Oh! Over there! Do you see it?!” Camila points in the opposite direction this time, and Lauren nods approvingly.

They share a silent laugh when the crowd subtly surges towards the direction Camila has given, cameras and phones at the ready, only to find an empty stretch of ocean. The crowd filters away when nothing noteworthy appears, but new people replace them and Camila and Lauren begin their prank again.

When they grow bored of their game – and the crowd seems to have realised that the girls are just winding them up – Camila tugs Lauren over to the railing and sits, pushing her legs through the bars so they can hang out over the side of the ship. Lauren mimics her position. Camila speaks without any preamble.

“She’s not as bad as I thought. Definitely not as pretentious as she could be, and a lot kinder than I gave her credit for.”

Lauren nods. She knows whom they’re talking about, of course.

“What do you get out of it though? Aside from a lack of sleep, I mean.”

Camila thinks that she could answer that question a lot of ways – both good and bad – but she opts for a noncommittal shrug. “The satisfaction of teaching her how to _not_ act obnoxiously rich, for one. It’s kinda fun.”

 _Kissing her is kinda fun too_ , Camila thinks. But she’s not quite ready to share that detail with Lauren yet, so she keeps it to herself.

Lauren looks sceptical but she doesn’t argue. Camila can’t help but ask why she’s taking this one lying down – it’s not like her to _not_ argue about something.

“As much as I tell you otherwise, you’re not stupid, Camz. I trust that you can make your own judgements,” Lauren says simply. “If you think Normani is a good person, then I do too. And if you’ve forgiven her, then I can forgive her too. Even though I still resent her for what she first said to you.”

Camila sends her a relieved smile and leans her head against Lauren’s shoulder. Lauren nuzzles the top of Camila’s head with her cheek.

“I reserve the right to veto her if I get suspicious though. I haven’t _completely_ relinquished my powers as a best friend.”

Camila rolls her eyes fondly. “Of course.”

***

Camila tells Normani that she told Lauren about them – their friendship, at least – when they rendezvous at the ballroom that night. If she feels Normani stiffen at the news, she doesn’t say anything. Though she _really_ wants to, Camila won’t pry.

They lapse into a comfortable silence then, as they often do while they are together. Camila lays and stares at the ceiling while Normani sits against the wall and stares at her. After a time, Normani encourages Camila to shuffle across and lay her head in her lap. Then she speaks.

“Tell me about you and Lauren,” Normani says, fingers twisting around a stray lock of Camila’s hair. “How did you meet?”

Camila is quiet as she contemplates her answer. Normani doesn’t push, just moves to run her fingers through Camila’s hair, combing out the knots and tangles. Camila almost forgets that she was going to speak, too absorbed in the feeling of Normani’s nails scratching gently at her scalp.

“Lauren saved my life.”

Normani’s fingers still in her hair, but she doesn’t press for more. Camila gives it to her anyway – maybe if she leads by example, Normani will share more about the things that she is keeping to herself.

“We were both sleeping in the same alley when a guy snuck up on me and pinned me down,”

Camila doesn’t need to explain his intention. Judging by the way Normani’s body has tensed beneath her, she’s sure that the girl has inferred correctly.

“Lauren was sleeping at the other end of the alley and she woke when she heard my muffled screams. She blindsided him – crashed two trashcan lids on either side of his head – and kneed him when he turned around. She grabbed me while he was down and we made a run for it. We’ve been travelling together ever since.”

Normani has yet to say anything. The lengthy silence makes Camila think that she’s made the other girl uncomfortable somehow, so she readies herself to move from Normani’s lap. But then Normani finally speaks.

“Tell Lauren I say thank you.”

“For what?” Camila asks confusedly.

“For saving you. And for bringing you to me.”

***

(Things progress the same way they have been progressing, until they encounter a roadblock in the shape of a boy who is _actually_ as pretentious as Camila once thought Normani was.)

***

It turns out that Normani has a boyfriend.

He’s kind of a douche.

Camila and Normani are sitting on the deck chairs by the portside wraparound deck on one of the lower levels. No one really dawdles there, especially not at this time of night, because the other areas of the ship are far more interesting. Neither girl notices the boy who has come up behind them and watches them talk innocuously about what would happen if the ship were to hit an iceberg and sink Titanic style.

Camila jumps when he speaks. She has lowered her guard since coming onto the ship and being given the safety of a room with a lock, but she immediately goes into defence mode at the threat of danger. She almost doesn’t register that the words coming from his mouth are directed at Normani and not her.

“… don’t understand why you’re out here in the freezing cold, much less why you’re talking to a _filthy street rat_ …”

Camila doesn’t know what she expects Normani to do. She naïvely hopes that the girl will defend her.

It’s a blind hope, really. Normani doesn’t say anything at all, just lets herself be dragged away by the arm without so much as a backward glance.

Camila doesn’t learn until later that the boy’s name is Arin, and he is Normani’s boyfriend.

(Camila didn’t think she had anything to lose – with the exception of Lauren, of course. It’s only now that she realises, with a pang in her heart, that she finally _had_ something, and it might have just been taken from her for good.)

***

Lauren doesn’t dwell on the nature of Camila’s relationship with Normani – a part of Camila thinks that Lauren knew the whole time anyway. She seems to be more concerned about the boyfriend who has suddenly burst into the picture.

( _Concerned_ is putting it lightly though.)

“You mean to say that she has a psycho kind-of boyfriend who’s just as loaded as she is, and she didn’t have the balls to tell you? I’m going to kill her!”

Lauren looks downright murderous and Camila has to calm her down before she does something stupid, like _actually_ murder Camila’s girlfriend.

(Girlfriend? Love interest? Occasional kissing partner? She and Normani haven’t ever talked about their relationship status, Camila thinks absently.)

“Can you be less angry at Normani, and more sympathetic for me?” Camila asks meekly. “I think I kinda need it right now.”

Lauren reluctantly tamps down her anger – overdramatic sigh included – and pulls Camila into her arms, whispering comforting words in her ear.

(Lauren’s version of comforting meant saying _I’ll hurt her before she can even_ think _about hurting you again_ and _I’ll rip her weave from her head if she so much as_ talks _to you_ , which isn’t really what Camila wanted to hear, but strangely enough it works all the same.)

Camila thinks she must look pathetic right now, crying over a girl who apparently doesn’t care as much as she thought she did.

“I let down my guard, Laur. I was so _stupid_.”

“Some things just feel good in the moment,” Lauren says quietly, consolingly. “It’s not a crime to do something because it feels right at the time, Camz.”

***

Normani finds Camila later, knees pulled to her chest in a corner of the ballroom. Apologies are tumbling from her lips, one after another, but Camila silences her with a look.

“Talk is cheap,” Camila reminds her with a pointed expression. “Don’t apologise if you don’t mean it.”

Normani is quick to respond. “But I do mean it. I mean it so much, Camila, I-”

“Then why?” Camila asks harshly, drawing herself up and pushing her chest out. “Why didn’t you tell me about him? Why did you let him talk to me like that? Why did you let him treat you like that?”

Camila watches Normani hesitate. When it appears that the girl is not going to share, Camila rolls her eyes and moves towards the door.

Normani’s hand circles her wrist before she can go anywhere.

“Contrary to popular belief, money isn’t the only thing you need to be successful. You need to have a reputation, and that reputation can sometimes even be more important than the money. My lifestyle is… _conditional_ ,” Normani explains. She releases Camila’s wrist and wrings her hands together timidly. “Arin is one of those conditions.”

Camila raises an eyebrow wryly. “You have a boyfriend because you want to bolster your reputation?”

“Not _my_ reputation – my family’s reputation,” Normani clarifies quickly. “Our families are pretty powerful on their own, but they think that they can be even more influential together.”

“So you and Arin…” Camila says slowly. “Your relationship is a publicity stunt?”

Normani nods. “Pretty much. But he’s not like us, Camila – he’s like _them_ , like the rest of our families. He’s all about power and wealth. I managed to make up a story explaining why I was talking to you before but if he catches wind that we’re anything more than strangers… he’ll _talk_ , Camila, and I don’t- I can’t-”

The words catch in Normani’s throat and Camila can only offer a comforting hand on her arm.

“My parents will disown me, my friends will abandon me, all my funds will be locked up… I don’t know who I am without all that, Camila. I don’t- I’m not-”

Camila thumbs away the tear that has escaped past her waterline. The tables have suddenly turned and she is no longer the one that needs consoling; she is the one _doing_ the consoling. And though the events of late still sting, she doesn’t let them affect her ability to separate her feelings from the facts.

“I thought we’d accomplished who you are without all that… or are you forgetting everything that I’ve taught you?” Camila asks gently.

Normani peeks up at her from beneath her lashes. Camila doesn’t understand how she can still look pretty even with red-rimmed eyes.

“You’re _Normani_ ,” Camila tells her firmly. “And you’re worth _so_ much more than any measurable material or wealth. Understand?”

Normani nods weakly. Camila taps her lips with a finger.

“I want to hear you say it.”

“… I understand.”

It’s soft, almost imperceptible, and Camila knows that Normani doesn’t quite believe it yet, but she will. Camila is determined to help make her believe.

***

Their clandestine midnight meetings slowly bleed into daytime trysts.

Camila understands the risk that Normani is taking by simply _being_ with her but she hates that they have to sneak around, hates that they are a _risk_.

Things are what they are though, and her petty irritation means nothing in the grand scheme of things. She’s letting Normani control the shots because this is her life, and she refuses to be the one responsible for ruining it or taking it away from her. Besides, Camila doesn’t really want to get killed; the power that Normani and Arin’s families have is apparently _very_ far-reaching.

So they run around, trying their best to hide from Arin and Normani’s family and friends who are also aboard the cruise ship.

(But somewhere along the line they grow cocky. Their cockiness becomes carelessness, and carelessness brings about consequences.

Consequences generally never bode well.)

***

Camila and Normani are in an unmarked closet full of mops, brooms and other miscellaneous cleaning supplies. It doesn’t take much to guess what they are doing in there.

Normani has Camila pressed up against the wall, pressing languid kisses across her collarbones and chest – places that would be hidden by a shirt, if Camila were wearing one.

Normani has developed a fondness for leaving bite marks and bruises on Camila’s skin, and while Camila loves the feeling – not to mention the pleasant ache that Normani’s skilled mouth will leave for hours to come – she doesn’t like the effort required to cover them up. Normani had suggested the simple solution of making the marks where no one will see them, and that’s why Camila is not wearing a shirt right now.

Camila wants Normani to be shirtless too, but the girl is too busy laving at the skin above and between Camila’s breasts, she ignores the insistent tugging at her shirt. After a while, Camila understands that Normani has no intention of letting up any time soon, so she decides to just let the girl have her fun. It’s not like Camila is being terribly put out by her actions or anything.

She settles in for a pleasant session of being thoroughly attended to.

Naturally, the situation is too good to be true.

The doorknob squeaks the slightest bit, and that is all the warning they have before they come face to face with three stunned expressions.

Okay, it’s more like _two_ stunned expressions; Dinah’s face twists into a smirk one she realises what she has stumbled upon, but Camila is confident that it isn’t a _mean_ smirk, just a mischievous one.

Ally and Troy, on the other hand, still look positively dumbfounded.

Camila watches Normani as she assesses the situation. There is something akin to fear in her eyes, and Camila is about to step in and take control when Normani tugs the three intruders into the closet with them. She somehow manages to reach past their bodies and pull the door closed, and Camila just tilts her head in bewilderment.

It was cramped before, but with three extra bodies inside the closet, it is almost stifling. Ally, who stands at a tiny five feet _nothing_ , is lost between Dinah and Troy’s towering frames.

Camila is still shirtless. She makes a mental note to remember that Normani does _not_ do well under pressure.

No one has spoken yet. Camila is fairly certain the silence has strolled straight past _awkward_ and dived headfirst into _deeply_ _uncomfortable_.

Dinah suddenly declares, “Look, I respect that you’re apparently in an _open_ relationship with Arin Ray, and his family are the ones giving us our paychecks-” Camila glances at the logo emblazoned on their uniforms and reads the words _Ray International Cruise Ships_ and makes the connection that she had previously overlooked. “-and you could probably get me fired for not doing what you say, but I’m not really into fivesomes so-”

“What the heck?” Normani cuts her off, an affronted expression on her face. “I’m not asking for a freaking _fivesome_ , Dinah!”

“Oh,” Dinah deflates. She frowns. “Why did you pull us in here then?”

Normani hesitates. “I panicked, okay? I didn’t know what-”

“Why were you even _in_ here?” Dinah steamrolls over Normani’s flustered answer and keeps talking. “It smells like bleach – not exactly the most romantic place to make out. Why not just take it outside? I mean… you wouldn’t be the only couple getting your mack on in public. Lord knows how many tweens I’ve had to pull apart with a freakin’ crowbar because _no one_ – not even the Devil himself – deserves to be assaulted by the sight of-”

 

“Dinah…” Ally cuts in gently. “They were kissing in a _supply closet_. Do you really think that their relationship is public knowledge?”

“ _Oh_. Right… Got it,” Dinah nods once, not even remotely ashamed of her previous digression. “Normani’s cheating on Arin with Camila and no one can know.”

“ _Dinah_!”

“I am not _cheating_ on anyone,” Normani says crossly, before Dinah can respond to Ally’s exclamation. “Arin and I are in a fake relationship for publicity and business reasons. I’m not romantically associated with him in any way. Not like-”

She doesn’t finish her sentence but she doesn’t need to; everyone knows what she means. Camila gives Normani a radiant smile.

Troy interrupts their moment with a gentle voice. “Dinah’s question still stands though: why _did_ you pull us in here?”

“You can’t tell anybody about this,” Normani gestures between her and Camila. Camila’s radiant smile turns slightly sad at the corners. “My family, Arin’s family, our friends on the ship… none of them can know, okay?”

All three nod solemnly. Normani sighs.

Then Dinah breaks out into a grin.

“Shoot, I thought you were another one of them spoiled princesses. You know, the ones that are all boring and predictable and _daddy where’s my pony_ -”

“Dinah!” Ally says exasperatedly.

“What?” Dinah asks obliviously. “Oh! Right. You’re still our boss’s son’s fake girlfriend, and I shouldn’t be insulting you because I could still get fired. Even though I know things that I shouldn’t know.”

Normani rolls her eyes in slight annoyance, seemingly unruffled by the implied blackmail threat. “Why are you guys so far out of your work stations anyway? _You_ -” She looks at Ally. “-are supposed to be in the kitchen being a pastry chef. And _you two_ -” She rounds on Dinah and Troy. “-are supposed to be working the main decks and attending to passengers.”

“Are you checking up on us now?” Dinah asks brazenly. Ally nudges her side. “Hoi, why you gotta dig your bony ass elbows into me for? Can’t I ask a legit question?”

Ally looks like she’s struggling to maintain her composure, and Camila almost chuckles. Normani dismisses them with an eye roll, and Camila is finally able to locate her shirt and pull it back on.

Normani slumps against the closed door. “Holy _crap_.”

“Holy crap,” Camila agrees.

Normani cradles her head in her hands. “This could ruin everything.”

“You don’t trust them to keep your secret?” Camila asks, kneeling down to reach her level.

“I don’t know,” Normani sighs resignedly. “I guess I kinda have to though, don’t I?”

***

Lauren has been reluctant to forgive Normani a second time. She even manages to deny Camila’s puppy dog eyes. But she’s finally convinced when Camila recaps the story of how Dinah, Ally and Troy caught them in the closet.

“Dinah straight up _asked_ why you two were in the closet?” Lauren repeats amidst a gale of laughter. “What did she think you were doing? Baking a rainbow cake?”

Camila smacks Lauren’s arm but the blush on her cheeks is telling. Lauren knows she’s embarrassed and she’s milking the situation for all its worth. She doesn’t stop laughing.

“Oh man…” Lauren sighs happily, wiping literal tears of joy from her face. “I need to make friends with Dinah – she sounds like she’d be funny as fuck when she’s drunk.”

She has a determined glint in her eye as says that, so Camila gives her a pointed look.

“I swear, Lauren, if you get Dinah fired…” She begins threateningly. Lauren looks unfazed. “She doesn’t deserve to lose her job because _you_ want to see what she’s like under the influence.”

“If I get her fired, you can just ask your girlfriend to hire her again. Problem solved,” Lauren grins smugly. “I am _so_ getting her drunk.”

Camila rolls her eyes in exasperation.

***

It’s reckless and all kinds of stupid, but Camila and Normani still don’t take as much caution as they should.

True to their word, the three cruise ship workers have not spoken a word about their dalliance. In fact, they go so far as to _help_ the girls keep it a secret. Normani grudgingly agrees that she should have had more faith in their goodwill.

***

Ally is quick to distract the head chef when the girls are almost caught by him, sneaking through the staff-only service corridors. Normani has access to a lot of places on the ship, but the kitchens are apparently not one of them; Ally shoos them with her eyes while she begins a haphazard conversation with the head chef about changing the dessert menu to include _pâte â choux_ and a handful of French culinary terms Camila has no hope of understanding.

(She laughs when Ally wryly serves her a new dessert dish the next night; her interest in adding more pastry dishes was apparently so convincing, the head chef gave her express permission to upgrade the dessert menu.)

***

Normani and Camila find themselves walking past each other on one of the wraparound decks. It is broad daylight, and there are people around, but they can’t help trading tender smiles.

Troy sees the exchange.

He also sees Normani’s mom coming around the corner, so he pushes Camila into a conveniently open laundry chute and cringes at the incredulous look Normani gives him.

When she realises why he did it though, she sends him a grateful smile. Normani smiles at her mother, who has reached their stretch of the deck, and waits for her to pass. Then she and Troy hurry to the laundry room on the level below.

Camila emerges from a pile of dirty laundry with a glare, and Troy balks.

“Sorry, I panicked!” He says hurriedly, backing away with his hands held up in defence. When backs into the doorway, he turns tail but not before saying, “Please don’t fire me, I need this job!”

Normani laughs at both Troy’s palpable anxiety and Camila’s petulant pout.

(Troy becomes really good at accidentally finding Normani and Camila when they are about to get caught, and warning them before something disastrous happens. It's fortunate for the girls, but not so much for Troy, who still looks wary of Normani despite her assurances that he will not lose his job for pushing Camila into the laundry chute.)

***

Normani is more devious than Camila gives her credit for.

She instructs Dinah to shut down the indoor pool by declaring that there is an emergency – something about a floater in the pool, if Camila recalls correctly.

It plays out like Normani has planned: the pool-goers evacuate, Dinah is left with clean up duty because she called it in and none of the other staff want to deal with it, and Normani and Camila have the pool to themselves for the afternoon.

Lauren tags along too, because they’re obviously not hiding anything from her, but she dutifully stays at the other end of the pool while Normani and Camila canoodle.

***

Lauren looks up at Dinah, who is standing at her end of the pool, watching the girls kiss with a slight grimace. There is a vague plan forming in her mind, and she decides to go with it.

“They’re nauseatingly cute, aren’t they?”

Dinah glances down at her. She shrugs and nods. “Disgustingly cute, yeah.”

Lauren pauses for a second to admire Dinah’s extremely short shorts and cruise staff polo, which is rolled up at the sleeves to expose her toned arms. She has seen Dinah working different areas all over the ship – as a waitress, receptionist, bellhop; even as a taste tester for the elitist passengers at mealtimes – but there is something about her in sportswear that makes Lauren feel downright immoral.

Lauren is hot. Dinah is hot. They could totally work.

She throws caution to the wind and asks, “Wanna make out?”

Dinah looks affronted at first, but a sly smirk soon spreads across her face.

“Take me on a date first, won’t you?”

Lauren seriously considers the idea, and then asks, “Do you like desserts?”

She grins at Dinah’s non-committal shrug, because it is belied by the delight in her eyes.

“I’ll ask Ally to make us something,” Lauren promises. “She’s a pastry chef, right? She can make desserts and stuff.”

Dinah gives an affirmative nod. Lauren pulls herself up out of the pool and pats herself down with a towel. After she pulls dry clothes on over her swimsuit (which she borrowed from Normani), she offers Dinah her hand.

“I’ve promised you a date,” The green-eyed girl says with a wink. “What say we start with drinks? How do you feel about sneaking a bottle of wine from the bar and going back to my room for a while?”

Dinah pauses to consider her proposition. Lauren knows it’s a front; it’s clear in Dinah’s eyes that she has already decided to take Lauren up on her offer. She just doesn’t want to look as eager as she feels.

Even so, Lauren doesn’t push. It’s a talent of hers – knowing when to push and when not to push. She knows Dinah will make the right decision, so she lets things happen at their own pace.

After they leave Normani and Camila to their own devices – not that they noticed them leave anyway – Lauren realises that Dinah is risking an awful lot for a bunch of girls she barely knows.

Dinah distracts the bartender with a flutter of her eyelashes and an easy-going smile. Lauren happens to catch the tail end of her act after she swipes a bottle from under the bar and tucks it into the towel that she brought from the pool, and she is momentarily dazed.

(She thinks that Dinah might not be the only one risking herself in this situation.)

Her wish to see Dinah drunk is granted though. Lauren thinks that the sight of Dinah trying to convince her that she’s not drunk whilst puking her guts into the toilet is the funniest thing in the world.

(Not to mention the tenderness in Dinah’s eyes when she looks up at Lauren, who is holding her hair back. Being on the receiving end of that look _alone_ makes Lauren think that this might be worth all the risk in the world.)

***

“We didn’t notice that you guys were gone,” Camila confirms when she and Lauren are both back in their room, and Dinah has gone to take a nap in her own bed. Normani has retreated to spend time with her family and friends, to make sure that they aren’t growing suspicious of her recent absence. “Did you just come back here and make out the whole time?”

“Don’t act like you weren’t doing the same thing,” Lauren drawls, though there is a slight dusting of red on her cheeks.

Camila pokes fun at her blush until Lauren reluctantly smiles.

“So was it just a hook-up or…?” Camila trails off.

Lauren chews her lip before she hesitantly fills in the blank. “Okay, so, here’s the thing: I asked her on a, um… I asked her _out_. Like, on a date.”

Camila’s jaw drops. The green-eyed girl elaborates.

“I _know_ , okay? That wasn’t even my intention – it started as a joke, because I kinda just wanted to see her get drunk like I told you, remember? But things happened and I flirted and she flirted _back_ , then suddenly the date wasn’t just a joke, it was an _actual real thing_ ,” Lauren gives a feeble shrug. “She has a really pretty smile, Camz. And these really cute dimples, right by her eyes.”

Camila feels her heart warm at the sight of Lauren looking so helpless. She pulls her best friend into a comforting hug, and Lauren automatically curls into her. She whispers a question into the fabric of Camila’s shirt.

“What if she doesn’t want me when she finds out that I’m just some homeless teenager?”

Camila answers with a knowing smile. “If she actually likes you, that won’t even be a problem.”

***

Camila and Normani’s honeymoon phase doesn’t last forever.

There is some kid running away from his mother on the main deck. He clips Camila’s elbow as he whizzes past and suddenly Camila is falling into the deep end of the deck pool. Her limbs are flailing and she is freezing cold and worst of all, _she can’t breathe_.

Camila begins to wonder why no one has tried to help her, but an arm hooks around her body and she abandons the thought. The cold has numbed her to the bone. She doesn’t know how long she has been without oxygen, but her eyelids are growing heavy and she can’t fight the weight for much longer. She can still feel herself being pulled towards the surface though, and she readies herself to thank the person who has saved her. But the water fills her lungs before she can break the surface and the darkness pulls her back under.

***

There is a voice calling her name. It is cracking in its desperation, and Camila wonders why it sounds so sad.

“Camila! _Camila_!” A shaky exhale. “Come _on_ , Mila... I can’t lose you, I _won’t_ -”

Then Camila’s eyes shoot open and she lurches into a sitting position with a gurgled gasp. Then coughing fit begins. She feels like she’s literally hacking out her lungs and her entire chest _burns_ but there is no other way for the water to escape so she just rides it out.

When Camila finally regains some semblance of control over her body, she looks up into Normani’s red-rimmed eyes. She takes in her dripping wet clothes and connects the dots.

“What happened?” She asks anyway, her voice hoarse from the hacking coughs that wracked her body.

There is a circle of onlookers gathered around them, and one of them speaks up.

“She saved your life,” He needlessly informs her. “Did CPR and everything.”

Camila crinkles her nose at the notion that she had almost died. Normani gives a breathless chuckle and presses their foreheads together for a brief moment. It’s risky – they’re out in the open with a goddamn _audience_ around them – but Camila knows Normani needs confirmation that she is not dead and that this is not just some fever dream.

“You haven’t lost me,” Camila whispers, lets the words ghost across Normani’s lips. Normani gives her a faint smile.

Lost in their tender moment, neither girl notices Arin watching them from the upper balcony.

***

“I don’t understand,” Normani says when they have relocated to her room, after Camila has been examined by the on-board medical team. Camila absently notes how much more lavish Normani’s sleeping quarters are. “We were in the pool when Dinah shut it down for us that one time, and you were swimming just fine.”

Camila grins sheepishly. “Yeah, I guess, but did you notice that we never once left the shallow end?”

Normani’s eyelids flutter closed and she breathes a laugh. “Your feet were touching the ground the entire time?”

“Yep,” Camila pops the ‘p’ and snuggles into the blankets on Normani’s luxurious king-sized bed. She glances up at Normani questioningly. “You told the doctor that you were happy to play nurse for me… does that mean you’ll kiss me if it makes me feel better? ‘Cause I could totally be down with that. Like, right now.”

Normani rolls her eyes fondly, but does not refrain from climbing onto the bed beside Camila. “Unbelievable. You almost _died_. How are you not freaking out over that?”

Camila hums when Normani pulls in her close. They lay facing each other with Normani’s arm slung over Camila’s waist.

“I don’t know why I’m _not_ freaking out, to be honest. Maybe I’m still in shock,” Camila furrows her brows in thought. “Or _maybe_ it’s because I’ve finally realised something…”

“And what is that?” Normani asks. The warmth of her breath tickles Camila’s lips.

“I think… I think I know the reason you came into my life.”

“And what is that?” Normani asks again, an amused smile on her face.

“I think you were meant to save me,” Camila says softly.

Normani is quiet. Camila is suddenly afraid that she has said the wrong thing, but then she speaks. Camila breathes a sigh of relief.

“I think you were meant to save _me_.”

“Okay, that’s just rude,” Camila says teasingly, though the smile on her face is dazzlingly bright. “You’re not allowed to steal my line and use it as your own, _Mani_.”

“Oh my god,” Normani groans, pushing Camila’s face away with her hand. “Way to ruin the moment, _Mila_.”

Camila pries Normani’s hand from her face and holds it in her own. “I still think _you_ saved _me_ ,” She says honestly.

Norman’s warm gaze bores into her eyes. “Maybe we saved each other then.”

“Maybe we did,” Camila concedes with a soft smile on her lips.

Their tender moment is broken by the sound of the door swinging open and crashing against the wall. Arin stands in the entrance, disgust etched deep into the lines of his face. Normani hurriedly tries to cover herself and Camila with the blanket, but Arin scoffs and crosses his arms.

“Really? You think you can hide after that little _display_ out by the pool?” He sneers. “I just _knew_ you’d turn out to be the black sheep of the family.”

“What do you want, Arin?” Normani asks through gritted teeth. Both girls have sat up now, and are glaring at the intruder.

“I want you to stop throwing your spare change to the needy,” Arin says haughtily, giving Camila a pointed look. “And come back to the person who can actually _provide_ for you.”

Camila can feel her hackles rise but she tamps down the anger. This is Normani’s fight, and she will only step in if Normani asks her to.

There is a split second of silence before Normani stands. Arin shoots Camila a smug look. Camila ignores it. She just blinks dumbly at Normani.

“Get out,” Normani says bluntly, pointing at the doorway.

For a moment, Camila thinks Normani is talking to her. Then she realises that the girl hasn’t so much as glanced her way; she is staring directly at Arin while she speaks.

Arin rolls his eyes. “You wouldn’t dare. I’ll tell our parents – hell, I’ll go one step further and tell everybody that we know. Lord knows what’ll happen to your reputation when they find out about your _dirty little girlfriend_ -”

Normani cuts his speech short by pushing him forcefully through the door and slamming it in his face. She locks the door for good measure, and then returns to sit next to Camila.

If Camila is surprised by the turn of events, she doesn’t show it. Normani seems oddly calm, considering the potential consequences her actions could have.

“What about your parents? Your friends?” Camila asks gently.

Normani blinks. “What about them?”

“Won’t they be mad? Disgusted, even?” Camila prompts.

Norman shrugs. “Yeah.”

“You might lose everything,” Camila goads.

Normani tilts her head in agreement. “I might.”

“So why do it? Why kick Arin out if you know what might happen?” Camila finally asks. She hopes that this isn’t the point where Normani begins to regret her actions. Thankfully, that doesn’t seem to be the case.

“He doesn’t understand,” Normani says simply. “They don’t _understand_.”

It sounds an echo of a conversation that they’ve had before. Camila gives her an endeared smile, tongue between her teeth and a twinkle in her eye.

“I know who I am, and who I want to be,” Normani continues, toying with the blanket beneath her fingers. “I don’t need money or power to be the person I want to be. I just need one thing.”

Camila, being Camila, cannot help herself.

“And what is that?” She asks teasingly.

“… I don’t even know why I try to have meaningful conversations with you. _Honestly_ …”

Camila ignores the rest of the sentence, just smiles winningly and kisses her on the mouth.

***

Sadly, all good things must come to an end.

The ship will be docking in an hour’s time and Camila doesn’t know what is next for her and Normani, or if there even _is_ a next. They are laying cuddled on Camila’s lumpy mattress, enjoying the last of their time on the ship, when Camila decides to bring up the topic of the future.

It seems that Normani knows exactly what she is alluding to, because she doesn’t hesitate to offer Camila a place to stay – with her at her house.

Camila is unsure.

“You still live at home, don’t you? What about your family?” She asks worriedly. “And what about the threat that Arin made? I doubt I’ll be able to set foot within a mile of your house if he’s told them about me.”

“I already told you: I don’t care what they say,” Normani says exasperatedly. “But if it makes you feel better, I actually live in the guesthouse on the grounds outside the family mansion. They don’t come out there often; it’ll probably be weeks – months, even – before they notice that I’m not living alone.”

Normani glances at Lauren who is sitting on her own bed, trying hard to pretend that she’s reading a book she stole from Camila’s bag. “I have a spare room that you two can use if you want.”

Lauren gives up the charade and tosses the book aside. “Your girlfriend is freaking _awesome_ ,” She tells Camila, grinning from ear to ear.

Camila still looks reluctant to take the offer. Lauren’s smile fades and she addresses her best friend with raised brows.

“Come on, Camz. Are you really going to deny me a bedroom that doesn’t sway when the wind picks up? Or a bedroom in _general_?”

Camila’s selective hearing kicks in and she dryly asks, “ _Your_ bedroom?”

Lauren rolls her eyes with a sort of fond exasperation. “The spare room is mine, obviously. We all know whose room _you’re_ staying in. Starts with an _N_ , ends with _ormani_?”

The tips of Camila’s ears feel hot, and she knows that she’s blushing _hard_. Normani appears amused, rubbing a thumb gently across one of her reddened cheeks. Lauren looks positively delighted by her embarrassment.

“If the idea of us sharing makes you uncomfortable, I can clear out another room and convert it into a bedroom,” Normani offers kindly.

Camila smiles at the gesture, but she shakes her head. Lauren seemingly realises the significance of the conversation and politely excuses herself to go say goodbye to Dinah.

To the untrained eye, Lauren looks like her normal, untouchable, emotionally guarded self. But Camila can see the nervousness in her eyes. She tries to give the green-eyed girl some advice before she leaves.

“If she reacts badly when you tell her about our background and where we come from…”

“Oh, no, that’s not the issue. I already told her that we’re homeless – she said she understood it on a _personal level_ ,” Lauren says this with an oddly proud smile, and Camila gains a deeper respect for Dinah and what she’s obviously overcome. “She just promised that we would desecrate the mini golf course before the end of the cruise, and while I usually don’t mind taking risks, I really don’t know how we’re gonna get away with fucki-”

“Oh god, _ew_ , Lauren. Too much information,” Camila grimaces. Normani wears a similar expression of distaste.

“Grow up, Camz – just because Dinah and I don’t share the same inclination for having sex behind closed doors like you two-”

“I _believe_ you were going to go say goodbye to Dinah?” Normani cuts in with raised brows. “Would you like to go do that now?”

Lauren smirks. “Oh, I’m gonna go say goodbye alright. I’ll say goodbye once, twice, maybe even three times, if you know what I mean.”

Normani shoots her a dry look. Thankfully, Lauren understands a dismissal when she sees one. Camila just shakes her head amusedly at her best friend.

Normani turns to Camila when Lauren finally departs with a wave.

“So you’re okay with staying at my place?” Normani asks again.

“I would love to stay with you,” Camila says softly, honestly. “If you’ll have me.”

Normani’s smile is even more blinding than the diamond pendant sitting against her chest.

“I’ll never _not_ want you around, Camila. I would love it if you stayed with me.”

Camila ignores Lauren’s audible fake gagging outside the door. Normani shuffles forward so that their foreheads touch, and winds her arm around Camila’s waist so that her fingers can splay across the skin of her back.

Normani’s touch lights her on fire, warms the heart that has only ever felt cold, and Camila is sure that her salvation has finally appeared, in the form of a rich girl with a pretty smile and an even prettier soul.


End file.
